Like a lot of kids who grew up in the ’80s, I was an avid baseball card collector. It started with my Dad, who would tell me stories of his own baseball card collection, long since lost. He would shake his head sadly, as if these lost treasures were why we lived in a three-bedroom house and not a sprawling mansion. Inspired, I spent every quarter I could find on packs of Topps cards, intent on recapturing the dream. I would rifle through the cards for hours, inspecting the little brown cardboard rectangles and sorting them into stacks. At some point all of us from that era put our Bo Jackson and Dwight Gooden cards in a special container, so that our Moms wouldn’t throw them out. And then we lost our Bos and Dwights. Read More »
It didn’t used to be like this.
He used to be so small. When I was a senior in high school, my youngest brother Tim was nine. I was the big brother, the family basketball star that the cheerleaders chanted for. He was a doughy little kid who sat with my parents in the bleachers.
Now he’s in the car with me, and we’re about to play a game of 1-on-1 that’s been months in the making. My brother is a soldier. He’s been in the Middle East, in one of the places that’s always on the news. We’ve been planning a basketball game ever since he deployed, and here he is, 7,000 miles later, about to lace them up with me. Read More »
If you missed the Eastern Conference Roundtable, this is its Western Conference counterpart. Below is a breakdown of each series, with exclusive insight from various experts, including the shady AAU guy, the 12th man on your school team and that Laker fan who wears $400 sunglasses. Again, we recommend using this information to place large bets on your hometown team, unless you live somewhere other than Texas or California. Read More »
As the NBA Playoffs rapidly approach, we here at Dime want our readers to be prepared for the postseason. To accomplish this, we assembled a definitive panel of experts including your high school coach, the 40-year-old guy at the park (who’s still got next, by the way) and your girlfriend. These authorities have given us exclusive information on all four of the first round series. Use this guide to make huge wagers on your team of choice, unless your team of choice is Atlanta. Read More »
Basketball used to be simple. Back when James Naismith invented the sport in 1891, the game looked very different. Players didn’t dribble. There were no three-pointers. Here’s the craziest part of all: there weren’t even positions. Teams had this weird idea that they could just play their five best players.
Nowadays everyone has a position. Expectant fathers stare at ultrasound pictures trying to figure out if their child will be a post player like daddy. Even the chubby 40-year-old guy at the park freaks out when you tell him to give up the ball because he can’t dribble. Read More »
When you think of dunk contests, there are several years which come to mind. 1985, when MJ and ‘Nique battled it out. Or 2000, when Vince Carter turned it into a one-man show. Or 1998, when things got crazy in St. Louis.
What’s that? You don’t know about 1998? Aw, son. Let me tell you what went down in St. Lizzy. Read More »
In the fall of 2000, a seemingly ordinary 21-year-old enrolled at a small college in Michigan. He didn’t look like a basketball player, and he certainly didn’t have the credentials, but he said he wanted a chance to play. He lobbied the coaches and earned a spot on the school’s JV team.
In the next three months he would destroy half the junior colleges in Detroit. Read More »
Go ahead. Make your jokes. Tell him he sucks. Laugh about T-Mac straddling him like a cowboy after dunking in his grill. Laugh about Space Jam. Say it was the highlight of his career. Forget about the 2,119 blocks. Forget that he always put himself in the way, even if it meant 20 or 30 posters. Death Stick don’t care.
Somewhere in Utah, there’s a man riding a custom chopper through the bucolic streets, completely at peace with the game of basketball. He doesn’t need your pity, and I’ll tell you why. Read More »
The story doesn’t begin on Saturday night. It doesn’t end there, either. But it’s where we have to start.
Saturday night, in a darkened gym on the darkest night he had ever known, the boy shot jumpers for hours. First his coach found him. Then the assistant coach came at midnight. All they could do was rebound for him. Rebound and let the healing take its course. Read More »
Basketball doesn’t always feel like it should. Sometimes it feels diluted. Sometimes it just feels off. Maybe it’s the angles. Everybody has one. Someone is always worried about numbers. Someone is always worried about legacy. Someone is always worried about ego.
In times like these, it helps to find a stronger version of hoops. And by stronger, I mean smaller. Read More »